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by TheSatinDiamond
Summary: Satine left Christian the morning after her first bad bout of consumption. When they meet again fifteen years later, everything's changed, except for their feelings. Can they learn to live with what happened, or will love find its way?
1. A Chance Meeting

"Hello, Christian." In the moment that our eyes met, every enth of the emotions I had fought back and finally overcome in the last fifteen years came flooding back. Now, here, at the Crown Prince's Christmas Ball, he grinned, but not the slow, sweet smile that I longed for. A mild, contorted smile, one that reminded me too much of the way that he smiled as I walked out the door. p  
"Hello, Satine." He replied, and it was still that same thick, soft voice, like flaming snow.p  
"How've you been?" I asked, wanting to talk to him, wanting some hint of how he felt about me. Somehow this hurt more than leaving. Now I had to face things I had only imagined.p  
"As of late? Wonderful." He motioned toward a girl- who, I could tell in a glance, was Irish- across the room. "My fiance, Kathrine." She looked over at us, and he caught her eye and motioned her over. "Satine, may I present The Lady Katherine Fowler. Katherine, dear, Satine Desmergers."p  
"Christian, you don't expect that I remained unmarried, do you?" I asked, taunting him. "In fact, my name is Satine Drake, Dutchess of York and Albany."p  
His face became slightly tinged with red. "Well, I'm happy for you. Tell me, is the Duke here?"p  
"No, er, my husband is dead."p  
"Sorry to hear that."p  
"My thanks. Tell me, Lady Katherine, where are you from?"p  
"Dublin, Dutchess." She answered.p  
"Oh? I stayed in Dublin for a while." We began to talk of it, and I found myself liking her. She was a bit younger than I, probably very close to Christian's age. Her hair was that orange-red of her heritage, and her eyes were a deep emerald green. She was friendly enough, though she seemed reserved. After a few minutes, or perhaps one half of an hour, a gentlemen, who I can only assume was her father, called to her, and she left, telling me that if I was ever in Dublin, I must call upon her. I obliged, thinking that if the occaision ever occured, I might.p  
I wandered over to the tables where dinner had occured earlier, and where several women, mostly other widows, were sitting. I sat myself apart from them, reflecting on how life had been since I'd left Christian. Harold Zidler, the owner of the Moulin Rouge, had told me to. And I had left. I deserted my only love for riches and glory. I had gone to Dublin with the Duke, and become engaged to him. But before we were married, he died. His nephew, the only heir to the dukedoms, had come to hear the readings of the will. I fell a little bit in love with him. He was handsome, and gentle, and so kind, but no matter what, he was never my poet, my Christian. I bore my Henry a son, named Olivier, and we lived quite happily for fifteen years. Except that he wasn't Christian.p  
As I was trapped inside my thoughts, Christian, slipped over and sat beside me.p  
"I didn't mean to be rude, you know." I nodded, and he went on. "It's hard, seeing you again. I'd thought that I had moved on, but it's hard to let go."p  
"Yes, it is. Christian, don't ever think that I don- didn't love you." I said, covering up my mistake.p  
"Satine, don't. It's been too long. I understand why things had to be how they did." He paused, and th silence between us was heavy. Then his eyes lit. "Where are you staying?"p  
"Um, I thought I might find a room at an inn in the city." I answered, wondering at his change of tact.p  
"No, why don't you stay at my mother's house?" He asked. At his mother's house?p  
"I couldn't impose, really, Christian."p  
"No, you must. I'm staying there for a day or two, so while you're in London, our home is your home."p  
"Are you certain?"p  
"Yes." There was a finality in his voice that I couldn't deny.p  
That night, I slept alone in a room that smelt of my beloved Christian.p 


	2. The Song Remembers When

The first night Satine was here was torture for me. Through the thin walls of my bedroom, I could here her light, rhythmic breathing. It drove me mad. p I loved Katherine, I truly did. But, I reflected, I had loved somebody else first, harder, longer. A woman six years my senior with fiery red hair and a fiery heart to match, who had loved me back. Not a dutchess, with a fifteen-year-old-son, who had left me to pursue her own interests. This woman was not my Satine. My Satine had died of consumption a decade and a half ago, just like in my book. So, then, why did that sweet, flowery scent about her make me crazy? Why did her eyes make me shiver? And why, then, did I want nothing more than to go to her now, take her hand, and make love forever, to make up for the long years since?p And yet, my heart argued, there was Katherine. I had promised to take her hand, had told my Uncle, the Duke whose heir I had been, that she was the one I loved. I had already attended all the parties I was abliged to, and done right by her. Except for the nagging at my heart, the one that consumed me with desire for another.p As the sun rose, so did I. I could not bear to lay there any longer. I contemplated going to my typewriter, but remembered the walls, how thin they were, and Satine sleeping in the next room. I reached into the drawer beside my bed, and pulled out an old charcoal pencil- it had been Toulouse's- and a peice from the stack of paper I kept. I sighed, and let my feelings out in song, and as I sang I wrote the words.p i"I was standing at the counter,BR I was waiting for my change,BR When I felt that old familiar music start.BR It was lika a lighted matchBR Had been tossed into my soul,BR It was like a dam had broken in my heart.BR After taking every detour, BR getting lost and losing track,BR So that even if I wanted, BR I could not find my way back.BR After driving out the memory,BR Of the way things might have been,BR After I'd forgoten all about us, BR the song remembers when.BR We were writing our love story,BR Making it up as we went on,BR When somewhere in my heart I heard that song.BR And it seemed to fit the moment,BR And the moment seemed to freeze,BR So we wrote the music up and sang along.BR And there was a God in heaven,BR And the world made perfect sense.BR We were young and were in love,BR And we were easy to convince.BR We were headed straight for Eden,BR It was just around the bend,BR And though I had forgotten all about it,BR The song remembers when.BR And then something must have happened,BR And it made you say goodbye,BR And my heart must have been broken,BR Though I can't recall just why.BR The song remembers when.BR Well for all the miles between us,BR And for all the time that's passed,BR You would think I hadn't gotten very far.BR And I hope my hasty heart,BR Will forgive me just this once,BR If I stop and ask you how on earth you are.BR But that's just a lot of water,BR Underneath a bridge you burned,BR And there's no use in backtracking,BR Around corners I had turned.BR Still I guess some things we bury,BR Are just bound to rise again,BR For even if the whole world has forgotten,BR The song remembers when.BR Yeah, even if the whole world has forgotten,BR The song remembers when."/ip I remembered perfectly well why she'd left, why it hurt, why it bstill/b hurt, no matter how hard I tried to stuff the knowledge down. I put the pencil and the paper into the drawer, and locked it. I paused, then unlocked the one below it, and took out all the random papers- bills of sale, payments made, receipt slips, other things of that like- and then I pulled out the false bottom, revealing a drawer beleath that one. There was a small box in it, and I pulled that out. I opened it, and examined the contents. The script of they play we'd been writing, the sketch of the two of us that Toulouse had done, the photograph. Satine was sitting on a stone wall in the garden of the Moulin, and I was standing beside her, staring. She had just whispered to me, whispered that she wanted to spend all her life with me. During those precious days, I was so caught up in stealing every moment I could with her, that forever never crossed my mind.p I sighed, and brought out the next paper from the box. It was hand-written, but not in my writing. It was a note from Satine, one I had found in my garret the morning after our first night together. The night had begun in the red room, but soon we snuck to my apartments, where we made love and talked and made love again, and eventually I fell asleep with her wrapped tightly in my arms. I'd awoken alone, with a peice of paper on my night stand. I sniffed it now, and it still smelt of her, light and flowery. It read, in a light, flowing script that fit her perfectly:p iDearest Christian:BR I love you, but I had to leave. If Harold had come looking for me, only to find me not in my quarters, it would become obvious. Watching you sleep, I only wish that you were awake, and we might cherish these last few moments before daylight. Meet me in the gardens at twelve. BR Until Then,BR  
  
Satine/iBR I sighed again. I placed it aside gently, and took out a stack of papers, in my handwriting. They were poems and songs that I had written her. I missed her so. I read them over, then put everything back in the box, and glanced outside. WHile I had been trapped in the past, time had slipped slowly past me, and the sun was now nearing her peak in the silvery-blue sky as I went to the kitchen.pBRBRBRBRBR(A/N: I hope you all liked this chapter. The song used is "The Song Remembers When", written by Hugh Prestwood, performed by Trisha Yearwood on her 1993 Album, The Song Remembers When. Some lyrics have been changed to fit the situation. New chapter coming soon :-) 


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